


Bianco

by urusai_lilania



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gay Sex, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urusai_lilania/pseuds/urusai_lilania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shoichi goes into his room to think about what's been happening around him, only to be interrupted by a visit from, in his opinion, a walking disease. "Stress Management in the Workforce" lectures never mentioned this tactic...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bianco

**Author's Note:**

> Attempted drabble that turned into a strange rant via Shoichi's mind ages ago. Just carrying over from my older writing sites (specifically Aarinfantasy and LiveJournal!).

It was not exactly where he wanted to be. In fact, he could think of a dozen places he’d rather be off the top of his head; given a few more seconds, he could probably turn out a decent hundred. Honestly, he doubted that  _anyone_  wanted to be where he was. That was probably the reason no one ever tried to take his place. Sure, the new recruits were always amped up and ready to charge up the ranks to glory, but once they had been around long enough that quickly cooled down.

Even for the Mafia, this place was dangerous.

White was supposed to be a divine color, pure and innocent. Irie Shoichi glanced down at the material of his uniform pants, running his fingers across a leg.  _White,_  he reflected,  _was also the quickest to stain._  Not only that, but it could almost never be removed, much less covered up. So to find something so pristine, so ivory, without flaw… the world craved this. It paid good money for it.  _The problem,_  Shoichi realized,  _is that a lot of people don’t check to see the thing’s qualities beyond that._  If it was pure on the surface, surely it went straight to the core… But white is not translucent by design. In fact, he was pretty sure that it was more the opposite. White would blind people, make what would normally be noticed after a moment’s study much harder to see at all.

There had to be something inheritably wrong with something that gave physical form to innocence while at the same time misleading you. Definitely wrong… Shoichi had struck upon the realization while idling the hours away some time ago. It seemed so obvious once he had stumbled upon it that he had accidentally dropped his drink.

What if—what if you were stained  _white_? What if the very existence of white was nothing more than a disease, one that spread and consumed everything it touched? Living safely within a mask of purity, corrupting everything around it before anyone was the wiser?

That was essentially the Millefiore’s White Spell.

Shoichi scoffed to himself. Even the Black Spell’s presence made sense in the analogy. White was only its brightest when it stood beside black. Black and white… Shoichi had entered a twilight zone. There was no gray in his world now.

He sighed. Sometimes when he let his thoughts wander, he thought up unsettling little truths. It was the only way cope these days with what had actually happened to him. Still, he had let it happen, blinded or not. Devious or not. He wondered how much of his treachery had been perceived by his superior so far. Whether he was known or not, it had to be done. He couldn’t let the disease engulf any more than it already had. He was already a casualty in this; he didn’t really think he’d get out of this mess unscathed anymore. This was the Mafia, after all.

“Is something wrong, Sho-chan?”

Shoichi glanced up at his superior, the epicenter of the disease. “Hm? Ah, no, Byakuran-san.” How could something so white be so completely devious? How had he been as a child? Had something tainted him as well, or was it his own design? Shoichi had millions of questions, but none he would ever dream of voicing. Byakuran was an enigma, even to his top associates, and especially to Shoichi. Everyone else thought that  _he’d_  have an inkling, an idea, but no. He was probably more confused than the rest of them. That was how Byakuran wanted it obviously, so that was how he made it. Hell, sometimes Shoichi found himself wondering if this entire plan of sabotage wasn’t actually Byakuran’s idea in the first place, giving him yet another horrific advantage in this war he had brought upon everyone.

The ivory-haired male tilted his head slightly, closed his eyes and smiled, the motion slow and drawn out, deliberate. When his eyes slid open again, they remained narrow, suspiciously bored. Byakuran’s demeanor, no matter how horribly drawn out and over-played it was, had yet to be disproven as his  _actual_  demeanor. This was rather unsettling, because the act in itself was extremely unsettling and utterly off-putting.

“Sho-chan. Don’t stress yourself; it’s not good for you.”

“I’m just thinking…” the redhead mumbled softly, irritably. He was one of the few people who could do this while speaking to Byakuran and not worry about his personal safety afterwards—it was yet another odd piece of his superior’s act. Shoichi fed it simply to relieve what stress he  _could_  so that the remaining burden didn’t make him cave in on a day-to-day basis. He hadn’t expected it to endear himself to Byakuran, not by a long-shot. This act was an odd one. It eventually dawned on Shoichi that Byakuran had been standing before him for several minutes now. It wasn’t that the visit in itself was misplaced… but Byakuran usually plopped himself in the spare chair he had made sure Shoichi’s chambers included. “…Did you need something?”

“You really are stressed, aren’t you Sho-chan?” Byakuran inquired now, his nose crinkling as a corner of his lips twitched. Shoichi wished he didn’t feel the need to say his name so often, it was worrying. “Mm. We can’t be having that,” the man decided, giving a small nod. Turning, towards his usual seat, Byakuran began unfastening the clasps on his collar.

“Ano… what are you doing?” Shoichi chanced asking, frowning. He didn’t particularly like the idea of Byakuran getting comfortable; it meant that the man wasn’t intending to leave immediately, and Shoichi wasn’t in the mood to entertain him.

Done with the two straps at the bottom of his uniform top, Byakuran ripped the zipper until it popped loose of the second set of teeth. Silently, he shrugged his way out of the bulky thing and freed his arms of it before discarding it unceremoniously on his chair. Shoichi sighed; no, the man wasn’t going anywhere. Didn’t he understand that a person went to their chambers when they wished to be left alone?

It wasn’t until Byakuran’s hands moved to loosen his tie that Shoichi’s brow raised. “Hey…” he started, climbing to his feet. A hand shot out at him, just using its fingertips to lightly shove Shoichi back down onto his bed. Shoichi’s knees shook with the force of the jolt, even if it had barely touched him. Blinking, he frowned and stared at Byakuran more closely.

"You shouldn’t move around so much, Sho-chan. You need to relax for once.”  _How can I relax with you here?_  Shoichi wondered, exasperated. It was hard enough to relax knowing that he was in the same building as the man, much less his chambers. He watched as Byakuran flicked the lilac-colored tie out from beneath his vest before undoing the knot, pulling the entire thing free of his collar and dropping it atop his uniform. Then he turned his attentions back to Shoichi.

The redhead eyed his superior with justified suspicion. The man did nothing without reason; it was just that the reason itself was usually extremely unclear and buried and almost impossible to decipher through his actions. Byakuran stood before him with his usual token smile that looked as though it had been moonlighting as a smirk and had forgotten which it was supposed to  _be_  currently. His hair was in its usual articulated disarray; his casual wear beneath the uniform was the usual articles—his black dress shirt covered with his white vest. Black and white. This man was the original disease. “Bear with me,” Byakuran murmured, apparently apologetically.

“It’d help if I knew what you were up to,” Shoichi pointed out with a sigh. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and closing his eyes as he massaged his temples. A foreign pressure appeared on both his knees, causing his face to screw up. Opening his eyes and tilting his head up, Shoichi found he was staring straight into a pair of hooded lilac eyes and blinked owlishly. Heat rushed to his cheeks while the rest of his body froze up.  _Too close… What’s he trying to do now?_

“Ano, you’re going to make this even harder for me, Sho-chan? That’s not very nice.” Shoichi stared hard at the man, trying to figure out if he had just successfully sounded  _hurt_. Shoichi mused that he must have finally succumbed to some psychologically crippling feature of the Bianco disease (he didn’t even realize he had named it) because it most certainly sounded as though Byakuran was hurt by something he had done—and what was worse, he actually looked wounded. Shoichi stared hard at the man, trying to get around the supposed injury he had caused him and onto what his mind  _should_ be focusing on—but he couldn’t get far enough to figure out what.

Byakuran leaned forward suddenly, hovering an inch away from Shoichi’s face. “I’m trying to play nice, Sho-chan.”

 _Too close! Wait… how is he too close?_  “Why are you on your knees?” Shoichi asked abruptly, a thoughtful frown mustering on his features finally. He wasn’t ready to rise to any of Byakuran’s odd mind games just yet.

“Ah… hm,” Byakuran intoned, his eyes glancing down casually. “Fancy that. I must really like you, Sho-chan. You know I don’t like it down here.” There was that smile again, his eyes crinkling.

“I see.” So much for getting a straight answer there… Shoichi’s eyes flickered from the pale skin to the odd triangular markings beneath Byakuran’s left eye and then back to the actual face as a whole. A pretty face to be sure, but not one you’d trust. He wondered if Byakuran’s unusual demeanor originated from him attempting to overcome his distrustful appearance.  _I guess with a face like his, unless he was_  born  _with this sinister expression, he might have actually been a very cute… possibly_  happy  _child._  Shoichi knew his face hadn’t drastically changed as he got older—his eyes had become brighter, which was a bit backward, he supposed, but he had been a very nervous teenager…

Even if he had calmed down as he got older, Byakuran made him very much ill at ease. Like now. Shoichi considered the fact that for some reason, Byakuran was on his knees before him when he didn’t like it, as well as in Shoichi’s face. “I suppose you don’t like being in people’s faces either.”

“Ah, but I like yours,” the ivory-haired male responded swiftly, his eyes opening again as the smile dispersed. “Lean back, would you?”

Shoichi moved his hands to his sides and straightened up slowly, keeping a wary eye on that face. “This more to your liking, Byakuran-san?”

“Of course.” Without another word Byakuran turned his attention back to what he was doing, reached forward and tugged at the zipper on Shoichi’s pants.

Shoichi immediately jerked forward and curled up in a ball once more, a hand wrapped tightly around Byakuran’s outstretched wrist. “Okay. What do you want?” he demanded, eyes wide.  _He’s playing games. Stupid little games. Why did he even come in here if it was just to fuck with me? He does plenty enough of that all day!_

“You know, for a man of your intellect, you aren’t exactly the fastest mind, are you Sho-chan?” Byakuran commented idly, flexing his fingers experimentally. His eyes glanced from his trapped hand back up to Shoichi. “You know now that I think about it, it might be easier if you just removed them yourself.”

The redhead twitched visibly.  _Mind games… it must be how the staining starts…_  But Shoichi was too far gone to be worried about a simple stain. “Byakuran-san, would it hurt you for once to say what you’re doing?”

Byakuran smiled again, only this time it wasn’t his usual twisted half-breed smirk but a rather eerily  _normal_  one. “What does it look like I’m doing, Sho-chan?” he asked, his voice lilting.

“Trying to get into my pants.”

“Then that must be what I am doing.”

Shoichi twitched again. He knew that smile was meant to throw him, but knowing what something does and actually avoiding the affects are in fact two separate actions, and Shoichi failed at the latter. Silently, he attempted to assess the situation. He had come to his room to unwind himself. This plan had backfired when Byakuran had entered the small chamber. He frowned; he hadn’t even heard the man enter, actually… nor did he see it… Of course, he was in  _desperate_ need of a good break, and that simply proved the point further. After intruding into his personal time, Byakuran then made himself comfortable… by removing a portion of his clothes. That in itself wasn’t distressing. Taken into account alongside everything else the man had done, it became slightly alarming. Because after making himself comfortable, Byakuran had immediately come over and gotten on his knees—something he admitted to not enjoying—gotten in Shoichi’s face, and then agreed that he was trying to get in his pants. Shoichi was vaguely aware that Byakuran was still idly flicking the zipper with his fingertips since the other male had stopped his hand where it was. Those eyes were still focused on Shoichi, but they were set in a face that was quite obviously bored and thought it could be doing something else that it would rather much like to be doing. “Can I ask something else?”

“Hm?” Byakuran murmured, blinking as though he were snapped from a daydream. “Sure, sure…”

“ _Why_?”

“Why what?”

Shoichi sighed, releasing his hold on Byakuran’s hand and flopped back on his bed in exasperation. “You are a very aggravating man.”  _You’re a disease. I don’t think I could get you out of my system even if I wanted to, and sometimes you make me want to…_  Shoichi threw an arm over his face and wished the man would go away if he ignored him.

“Thank you.” Shoichi growled half-heartedly; he could  _hear_  the taunting smile in that one. He could also hear the sound of his zipper being ripped. He debated sitting back up to protest, but then frowned to himself. He didn’t honestly think Byakuran was going to follow through on his endeavor, but he was being forced to seriously consider the fact that the man was doing so—there was a rather firm grip now sliding both his pants and boxers off his hips and past his knees. And then Shoichi’s body quaked so badly that one hand automatically twisted in his sheets while the other popped up and smacked himself in the forehead. He gritted his teeth sharply, tried counting to ten, couldn’t seem to remember what came before one, and said, “What are you doing now?”

“…You know, I’m beginning to question your intellect more than I should have to, Sho-chan,” Byakuran murmured. “You don’t have nerve damage, obviously,” he added. He settled back down and once again breathed lightly onto Shoichi’s extremely startled penis. Shoichi had always assumed Byakuran was cold-blooded, but he had to quickly give up on that line of thought—the man’s breath was like acidic fire. His skin wouldn’t stop crawling, and the feeling quickly spread through the rest of him.

Byakuran wrapped his fingers around the base of the thing, lightly flicking the tip of his tongue across the head. He repeated the motion for a minute or so until Shoichi’s shudders became less prominent. The redhead carefully sat up, his hands shifting to grip the edge of his bed as he eyed the man between his legs. Byakuran’s lilac eyes shifted up to him for a moment, the horrible half-smirk reappearing on his lips. Shoichi opened his mouth to protest once more, but didn’t get a word out before Byakuran turned his focus back to the task at hand and took Shoichi into his mouth.

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Shoichi mentally cursed. The ivory-haired male was casually sucking him, dragging his tongue down the length as he did so. His mouth was hot and the ministrations themselves were almost immediately intolerable. As a bid to keep himself under control, Shoichi continued to watch Byakuran with a fixed stare. “A-ano…” Lilac eyes rolled up to view him, but the man gave a hard suck suddenly, wrapping his tongue around the head and fooling with it idly. Swallowing thickly, Shoichi tried again. “What are you doing?”

For a response he received a blink of the eyes and a rather wide bobbing of the head—on its own the action would have been odd; with Shoichi’s penis effectively being used as a messenger, it set off a flood of reactions throughout his body. Byakuran’s eyes glanced down and then back up once more, as if to see if the message had been received.

Every muscle along Shoichi’s arms had turned rigid in an effort to keep him from squirming about at the maddening touches. He had a feeling it was something Byakuran was expecting of him, so he’d resist it as long as he possibly could.

And then it suddenly occurred to him why the expression Byakuran had given him had bothered him—the monitors. Any time he wasn’t in the same station as his superior, the man would continuously harass him through video feeds, all the while snacking on marshmallows. He had a horrible affliction for the things, and he played with them as he consumed them. Oftentimes he’d link up to Shoichi’s monitor and then spend much of an hour viciously eating marshmallows at him. He had, quite frankly, behaved little differently than he was currently. Of course, there was one striking difference—Shoichi was not one of Byakuran’s marshmallows.  _Hnn… he’d probably say otherwise,_  he thought to himself briefly, trying to best the mental fog threatening to consume him.

He sat motionlessly, closing his eyes. He willed himself to concentrate on regulating his breathing, hoping the regular rhythmic motion would cancel out the other rhythmic motion being forced upon him. His chest was heaving slightly, his breathing a bit more rapid than normal. He set his jaw to keep from panting audibly. He found it a bit odd that he would have to resort to meditation now of all times (especially considering Byakuran’s claim that  _this_  would help him with his stress).

His chest heaved softly beneath his shirt, every so often hitching sharply. His heartbeat thumped irregularly, painfully, and the feeling continued on through his veins across his body. He had nearly managed to block out the sound of Byakuran’s steady breaths, nearly ignored the sensations the man was sending through his body, when something broke through his peace of mind.

“Byakuran-san?” Shoichi voiced irritably, an eyebrow twitching. He didn’t want to open his eyes and look at the bastard.

“Hm?” Apparently Byakuran didn’t feel like taking the time to stop his proceedings. He simply rumbled a syllable at the other male and continued onward. Shoichi tried not to focus on the tongue exploring him, pressuring him and twisting and…

 _Focus._  Shoichi blinked, frowning at the ceiling before mustering up the resolve to stare at the dangerous man. “Are you humming?”

“Hm,” Byakuran responded once again, returning to his idle humming. Seeing that Shoichi wasn’t immediately going to question him again, Byakuran tilted his eyes back down, taking the length of Shoichi in deeper than he had been already. A new shockwave rattled the redhead, but he steeled himself. No gag reflex…Shoichi noted with minor horror.  _Wonder if his body gave up from all the marshmallows…_  Sweets overload could induce gagging, couldn’t it? He hadn’t exactly been fond of sweets as a kid, so he couldn’t know personally. It wasn’t to say that Byakuran missing such a typical function would surprise him; hell, he firmly believed the man was missing most of the typical functions a person was born with. The humming suddenly broke into his thoughts again.  _Sensibility, for starters…_  His train of thought derailed again, that incessant sound drifting up to him.

“Why on earth are you humming?” Shoichi demanded curiously, studying the other male suspiciously. The humming suddenly ended with an abrupt and heavy halt, at which point Byakuran reached forward with his spare hand and groped Shoichi’s sac. The redhead jerked forward instantly, nearly bringing his skull down on top of Byakuran’s in the process. The other male was kneading them harshly, rolling his fingers over them as he continued his attentions elsewhere. Byakuran paid absolutely no mind to the fact that Shoichi had nearly headbutted him.

Ah, but the humming had stopped.

 _…That just means he knew I’d respond to it,_  Shoichi realized with a wince.

A heavy feeling had begun to settle in his chest and stomach, one that Shoichi did not like by any means. He didn’t like it because his body sure as hell seemed to, and that simply meant that there was no way he’d be winning this. The weight slowly transformed itself into a dull burning, as though he had inhaled too much smoke and was holding it in. His heartbeat began to thump louder than before, quickening its pace. Distantly it came to his attention that his dick was no longer tucked inside that damned wet oven.

Byakuran, refusing to release the hand that held onto Shoichi’s sore penis, suddenly came out of his crouch. “Ne, Sho-chan,” he greeted warmly, his voice horrifically friendly. Shoichi blinked rapidly from behind his glasses, opening his mouth to speak. As he did so Byakuran tightened his grip on the man’s penis, the quick repetitive jerks becoming harder.

“Gah!” Shoichi slipped; the revitalized movement had winded him almost as bad as a punch to the chest would have. He panted for a moment as he attempted to regain his oxygen levels. Byakuran hovered there before him, still smiling disturbingly. “What…” he managed, cringing as pain flared from the effort of speaking.

Reaching up with his free hand, Byakuran filched Shoichi’s glasses, tossing them onto the nightstand near them. “H-hey!” Shoichi protested, scowling. He didn’t have a chance to say anything else clearly—his superior came down on him and pressed Shoichi’s lips against his own. Shoichi attempted to back out of the kiss immediately, only to find Byakuran’s hand clamping across the back of his neck, holding him where he sat.

Byakuran’s eyes darted about, searching Shoichi’s for a moment as he pulled his lips back. “Sho-chan should try to enjoy himself more often.” The redhead snorted at this, but stopped attempting to retreat. “Hm… I could give you some options,” the man murmured, chuckling to himself. Shoichi grimaced softly as the warm breath ghosted his face. “Either I suck you off or we just get right to it.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t hear the one where you leave the room.”

“Ah, that’s after the fact, Sho-chan. But thank you for letting me decide,” he said, lowering himself back down. “If you want me to leave, then humor me.” Taking the hand that was still wrapped around his target, Byakuran began to pump his fingers up and down the length of it, squeezing and releasing alternatively. Shoichi blinked rapidly, his eyes bulging as he gripped the edge of the bed hard again. The other man had stopped playing around.

After a minute of this treatment, he stopped entirely.

A strangled whine beat around in his throat threatening to voice its opinion on the situation, but Shoichi swallowed it. Grimacing, he watched as Byakuran sat back on his haunches, supporting his weight with one hand gripping his subordinate’s knee; he left the other still gripping the dick. He rocked back and forth on his knees experimentally for a bit, his eyes fixed on Shoichi’s face. It was disturbing, really.  _He looks like a kid…_  he thought murkily.  _Like a kid not trying to show he’s disappointed…_  “Ah, but Sho-chan, I don’t really want to leave then either…” he murmured darkly, his expression turning sour as he cast his eyes to the floor. “It’s no good if someone who’s special doesn’t want you around,” he pointed out, his voice taking on a new tone.  _He’s getting better at acting upset…_  Shoichi thought worriedly. It always bothered him whenever Byakuran would go on about the fact that Shoichi was special to him. Being special to a twisted individual was not exactly ideal, especially if they were your boss, particularly if you were in the Mafia.

Shoichi realized suddenly that Byakuran was waiting for some form of response. “Byakuran-san, you don’t need to be doing this,” he pointed out finally, rolling a shoulder. His body was aching, agonizing over being left idle, especially after the other man had changed tactics on it. His breathing had slowed down now, but his heart kept on drumming harshly.

“Ah, but I want to,” the man replied, arching an eyebrow at the floor. He seemed fairly resigned on this point; he hadn’t dressed it up in any manner or attempted a smile, just let it fall bluntly from his lips. Still, there was an obvious problem with that mentality.

Sighing, Shoichi closed his eyes. “If you want to do it, then you’ll do it. Why act like it matters what I say?”

“Because I’m doing it for Sho-chan’s sake.”

Shoichi’s eyes opened slightly as he scoffed quietly, unable to stop the reflex despite who it was directed at. “I’m sorry Byakuran-san, but I find that hard to believe…”

“But I told you before I don’t like it down here,” Byakuran pointed out, suddenly looking back at Shoichi as if it was completely illogical that he should even be on the floor.

“So you’re doing something that you don’t like because you want to?”

“Because it’s for Sho-chan.”

“…I see.” The tone of Shoichi’s voice was that of someone who  _didn’t_  see and thought that probably anyone else would agree with them that it was impossible to do so.

Byakuran dropped back down onto his knees with a soft “thud” and draped his arms over Shoichi’s hips, staring up at the man with a blank expression. “That’s what people do for people they care about, Sho-chan.”

“…” He hated to admit that the man had a point there. But there was much more to it than that, wasn’t there? Shoichi hadn’t wanted this, but Byakuran kept toying with him and practically forcing the man to ask for it. What was it that Byakuran actually thought Shoichi needed? He had yet to actually say anything of the sort. All Shoichi could assume—and only vaguely—was that it was something involving stress relief.

“What does Sho-chan want?”

“To know what you’re thinking.” Shoichi frowned slightly at the fact that Byakuran had actually bothered to ask such a thing as if he intended to listen, which much of their speaking so far obviously proved otherwise.

There wasn’t any hesitation, only a vague tilting of the head and eyeing Shoichi’s penis for a moment where it stood unattended. “I’m going to finish you off, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

“That’s not what you’re thinking, Byakuran-san,” Shoichi stated, wincing. “That’s just what you’re planning. … _Doing_ ,” he corrected himself. He had already resigned himself to whatever Byakuran’s intentions where, so at this point finally having them voiced seemed pointless. The man probably only responded because it had been the question Shoichi had been asking previously, thus twisting them back around in the conversation, should Shoichi rise to the bait. Shoichi refused to rise to it; he just wanted to hear for himself what was bringing the man to behave in such a way.

His eyes fluttered for a moment, his brow almost knitting. “I’m thinking that you are awfully irritable, Sho-chan. I just want to help you relief some stress.”

“I came in here to do that,” Shoichi responded quietly. Byakuran seemed to adamantly refuse to speak his mind. It was nothing new, but considering the situation Shoichi’s desire to know what was going on inside the other man was a bit stronger than usual.

“So did I,” Byakuran shot back, his cheerfulness slowly seeping back into his words. “You really don’t seem to  _mind_ , anyway,” he added, gesturing downward.

Shoichi didn’t want to go and dive headfirst into  _that_  topic. He could say any little excuse he wanted to, but it didn’t change the fact that this man had caught his attention somehow.  _With his disease…_  Shoichi thought humorlessly. Even he had fallen victim to it, succumbed. …But, of course, that was just another excuse to cover up a basic human truth. The redhead didn’t have enough will to fight the other man simply because in the end, he really didn’t want to. That in itself might have been a much more fatal disease. “It’d be easier if you didn’t treat me like food.”

Byakuran seemed to mull this over for a moment or two before resting his cheek on Shoichi’s thigh. “Hm. So Sho-chan’s not upset now?”

“…What?” Once again, Byakuran spoke out of the blue, in a child’s tone, only to completely fail at portraying anything innocent because his movement reminded Shoichi of how close he was to a region that Shoichi didn’t normally allow people to reside in. Byakuran had managed to position himself there with extreme ease, thanks to Shoichi’s failure to keep from being attracted by him.

The lilac eyes closed, their owner sighing softly. Shoichi shivered slightly as the blast of air had nowhere to go but at his crotch. He stared hard at Byakuran, wondering what the man was getting at now. When he spoke, his tone was tense, but still dangled dangerously close to childish. “You’ve been annoyed with me all day, Sho-chan. I just wanted to know that you’re not now.”

 _All day?_  Come to think of it, there had been a particular reason that Shoichi had escaped to his room… Some argument… _With Byakuran-san,_  he realized suddenly. He had once again tried to voice his opinion to Byakuran in hopes of making an impact in a manner other than flat-out betrayal. He didn’t honestly need to be doing such things, because it drew unwanted attention to him and therefore possibly to the treachery… but something inside him demanded he try. It was suddenly becoming a bit clearer as to why Byakuran had followed him, why he hadn’t particularly noticed the man’s entrance. Shoichi’s mind had been reeling with annoyance at himself, at Byakuran, at the entire stupid mess he had gotten himself tied up in. …And Byakuran hadn’t left it where it should’ve ended; he actually followed Shoichi to his chambers. Not immediately, because this probably wouldn’t have gone unnoticed and put Shoichi in a foul mood. No, the ivory-haired male let Shoichi kick himself around mentally for a while, straighten out his thoughts… and then came into the room the picture of concern. As though their previous encounter hadn’t even happened—or rather as though Shoichi’s opinion had mattered and Byakuran had felt he’d done wrong to him. This in itself didn’t seem possible at all, but Byakuran specifically presented himself in a manner that made predicting his actions practically impossible.  _All day… what difference would it make to him whether or not I was annoyed? Because he says he cares? Because he calls me special? Or because he didn’t get what he wanted somehow?_

Trying to understand the disease’s origins would yield nothing, he knew. Shoichi stopped trying to decipher it once more. “…I’m just confused,” the redhead muttered finally.

“Ah, that’s good then,” Byakuran returned, smiling up at his subordinate. Apparently confusion was something that didn’t bother him in the least…  _Figures as much…_  Shoichi thought. After all, confusion and enigmatic behavior went hand in hand. He watched silently as Byakuran lifted his cheek from his leg, giving him a small quirking of the lips as he brought his mouth down around Shoichi’s head once more, but he left his arms where they were. His hands buried themselves beneath Shoichi’s shirt and cradled his hips, dragging his nails against the skin as the digits slowly furled and unfurled where they lay. The sensation sent shudders along Shoichi’s spine, but when he shifted in discomfort he could only move forward into Byakuran. Then the man’s tongue began to work again.

It danced and swirled in chaotic designs along Shoichi’s skin, hooking around the shaft and tugging while simultaneously sucking. This combined with the scratching had a monstrous effect on Shoichi’s control of himself. If he tried to hold still, his skin caught fire and crawled and itched and he began to squirm fitfully. When he tried to move, from either touch, it let him straight back into the other. His mind was reeling almost instantly. Byakuran’s thumbs were digging concentric circles into Shoichi’s pelvis, his fingers scraping and dragging their nails along the length of his hips. He’d jerk in response to the thumbs suddenly pressing down hard, thrusting himself further into Byakuran’s mouth as a result. Each time this happened Byakuran would suck harder, forcing the man’s panic and unease to rise further still. Shoichi would buck back slightly, and the cycle would renew itself.

After a few minutes of this treatment, Shoichi could no longer think clearly. His breathing grew ragged as he panted for air, his heart hammering away. He could hear the blood rushing around in his ears somewhere, mingling itself with his hectic huffs and Byakuran’s paced inhalation. Relinquishing his hold on the edge of his bed with his right hand, Shoichi found himself reaching out and slipping his fingers through the ivory mess before him, gripping the strands loosely. “Nngh,” he groaned, grimacing. Byakuran was now lightly dragging his teeth across his length as he went down, and then more brusquely repeating the action as he came back up, still dancing with his tongue. Shoichi was only vaguely aware that Byakuran was forcing him to buck in time to his own actions; the only thing his mind could catch was that there was a momentary burst of insanity every time it happened.

The room began to swim before Shoichi’s eyes. He hadn’t turned a light on when he came in, and the room had turned dark now, having lost the limited light that permeated his blinds. There wasn’t really much furniture to speak of, just the two chairs, a nightstand, a dresser, and his bed. Everything was white here, so the entire room took an ethereal glow in the darkness, vaguely recognizable whenever he managed to steer his attention away from the peculiar man between his legs—but this was quickly becoming a rare achievement.

For a moment it seemed to Shoichi that Byakuran looked rather demonic in the darkness, glowing oddly the way he did, but then the night had that sort of affect on things, didn’t it? Especially white things. Maybe things infected with the Bianco disease needed sufficient light to make their blinding properties function. It occurred to Shoichi suddenly that he was becoming a bit delirious, and then his mind collided with a wall and entered a coma.

He snapped out of his funk to find himself breathing shallowly, his heart going a mile a minute as he reflexively tightened and loosened his grip on Byakuran’s hair. His other hand was lost somewhere to the left of him and numb, either from gripping the side of the bed too hard or getting caught up in the sheets. He couldn’t feel any part of him above his diaphragm. Below the invisible line, he was surprised to find his body wasn’t actually in flames. It sure as hell felt as though he should have spontaneously caught fire by now.

He stared at Byakuran and resisted the urge to lean over and start fondling the man’s face since he appeared to be preoccupied making Shoichi’s body feel as though he had become a breeding ground of deadly sin. He shut his eyes and moaned in protest to Byakuran’s ministrations, his body almost convulsing it was jerking so hard. He came abruptly, his body giving in to one last traumatic shudder as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his system. Byakuran swallowed, leaning back a bit as he wiped at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shoichi twisted his fingers forcefully in the man’s hair and pulled him up over his lap, bringing his lips down on Byakuran’s forcefully. He ignored the hand that materialized, snaking around the back of his neck and nearly pulling him off the bed. Byakuran’s tongue flicked across his lips, and Shoichi’s parted instantly. It slid in without delay, running in swift little circles along Shoichi’s palette. A moan warbled around in Shoichi’s chest before he killed it, growling instead as he shoved Byakuran’s tongue back with his own.

The ivory-haired man broke the kiss but remained a breath away. “Glad to see I’m not wasting my time,” Byakuran purred, smirking heavily. “Sho-chan looks happy.”

“You are a very strange man,” Shoichi breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still trying to catch his breath.

Hearing the sound of the other man’s breathing, Byakuran arched an eyebrow. “You know it would have helped if you took your shirt off,” he pointed out, smiling in the dim lighting.

Shoichi frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side and down so that he could see his shirt without bumping noses with Byakuran. “Ah… Well, it’s a bit late, isn’t it?” he responded lightly, in passing.

“We’ve got to take it off anyway.”

Shoichi’s head jerked violently back upright as he went to stare at Byakuran. “Eh? Why?”

Crinkling his nose at the question, Shoichi’s superior explained, “I don’t like it like that.”

“Like what like that?”

Byakuran eyed Shoichi carefully, as though contemplating where the horribly suspicious young man he employed had disappeared to inside Shoichi’s skull. “Sho-chan, you intelligence…” he reminded the redhead gently. “I told you what I was going to do, didn’t I?”

Breathing was becoming much easier now, and his heart had finally quelled itself, so the white noise in Shoichi’s ears had faded down. Licking his lips thoughtfully, the man glanced up at the ceiling. “I think so. It wasn’t what I asked though…”

“You did ask. Just not then.”

“ _Ah_! What are you thinking?”Shoichi asked, suddenly remembering that this was in fact what he had wanted to know. He brought his gaze back off the ceiling and down to the man before him.

Byakuran blinked owlishly, his lips set at an odd little line as he allowed the question to settle itself out. “I think that Sho-chan must have needed this for a very long time. But at least Sho-chan’s happy,” he added, amusement coating his voice. He allowed his lilac eyes to roll slowly upward, following the length of Shoichi’s arm. “Do you mind letting go of my hair?”

“Ah! Sorry, Byakuran-san,” Shoichi replied quickly, immediately letting go. Byakuran quickly reached out and caught the hand before it fell to the bed, holding it lightly around the palm. Shoichi watched curiously as the man took his hand and began snaking his tongue around the digits, travelling along the length of each before opting to suck on them one by one. Byakuran glanced up from what he was doing to see Shoichi’s intent stare.

“Hm? What is it, Sho-chan?” he asked quietly, holding Shoichi’s fingertips to his lips.

“You don’t want me to do anything?” Shoichi asked suddenly, frowning.

“No. This is for Sho-chan. It wouldn’t be nice if I made you work. You’ve been very stressed,” Byakuran reminded him casually, slipping a finger back in his mouth.

“Why are you doing that?” Shoichi asked again, his stare shifting to Byakuran’s mouth as he shuddered. He was torn between trying to kiss Byakuran and just letting the man do as he saw fit, but there was very obviously something going on here… his brain was just suffering too much from how good he was feeling to actually try and process it out for himself.

Releasing the captive hand, Byakuran smiled slightly. “It’s just a sign of fondness, Sho-chan. There really isn’t much more to it than that. I’ll be taking your shirt now.”

“My shirt?”

“Well it’s the only thing you’ve got left,” Byakuran pointed out bluntly, amused to see Shoichi glance down in confusion towards his feet. “Your shoes and socks were gone when I came in, and what’s left at your ankles will just fall off once we move you. Now, your shirt,” he reminded the man pointedly. “I suppose you can take care of that yourself?”

“Ah, hm…” Shoichi intoned, looking for his left hand. He still couldn’t feel it really, but it was there all right; it rose into view as he tentatively moved his arm. Byakuran climbed to his feet and backed up a step as Shoichi pulled the shirt up over his head, discarding it on the floor. A fresh chill broke out across his body as his skin became exposed, still glistening slightly.

Shoichi watched as Byakuran stepped over to his chair, unbuttoning his vest with quick little flicks of his fingers. Once that was removed he did the same to his dress shirt. Pausing for a moment, the man glanced down at his feet and frowned. His nose crinkled; for Shoichi this was a sign that the man was for once not acting. It was very rare that his nose crinkled when he wasn’t smiling. He watched as the shoes were removed, and then the socks, then frowned curiously as Byakuran failed to remove his pants, his hands hovering over his belt buckle for a solid minute before they dropped back down to his sides. “Ano, Byakuran-san. You dislike shirts and prefer pants?” the redhead inquired, glancing up as the man came to stand over him.

“Sho-chan, if I told you I am likely to hurt you, what would be your response?” That thoughtful frown was still sitting on his face; the man looked irked.

Once again Byakuran came up with something startling out of the blue. Shoichi blinked for a moment, trying to force the question to hit home in his over-stimulated brain and found that it was easier to accomplish if he didn’t focus so much on the way Byakuran’s stomach dipped as he inhaled. He pulled his eyes back up to look curiously at the man standing over him still. “That’s a rather pointless question, Byakuran-san. I work for you.”

An eyebrow rose at this implication. “Working for someone doesn’t necessarily mean you should be expecting them to hurt you, or be fine with it.”

“True… but this is the Mafia,” Shoicih responded with a deft shrug; he caught himself looking down again and mustered up the last dredges of his willpower to stare hard at Byakuran’s face. It was a bit hard to make out his expression between the darkness of the room, the odd glowing effect, and the fact that Shoichi’s glasses were not where they should be.

Byakuran reached out and placed his hand atop Shoichi’s hair, idly running his hand over the red locks. His half-breed smile had yet to resurface and engulf the odd contemplative stare. “So, because you work for me, you’ve accepted that I’m going to hurt you? That’s a rather odd way of thinking, Sho-chan.”

“It’s… not like that…” the other man tried to explain, wincing. The odd petting gesture was having its way with his brain as he struggled to keep himself focused on the man before him instead of what said man was doing.

“Oh? What is it then?”

Some urgent fragment of his subconscious suddenly began screaming at him to be careful, but Shoichi couldn’t figure out why it had suddenly chosen now to turn back on. Byakuran had only asked a question… “I’ve known you would hurt me,” he decided finally. His subconscious began smacking itself angrily against the wall that had thrown Shoichi into his coma. “It’s inevitable, isn’t it?”

“Ah, but you’re not a fatalist, Sho-chan. Saying things like ‘it’s inevitable’ is just a means of giving in to whatever is the real reason.” Byakuran’s hand slid down the side of Shoichi’s skull to cradle its side, his thumb casually running along the man’s jaw. “You can do better than that.”

Shoichi leaned into the hand, closing his eyes as he considered this. “Well you wouldn’t ask such a question unless you were going to go ahead and do it anyway, right?” he murmured. “So I don’t see why I can’t be resigned to it too.”

“Because what I want to do with you and what you want aren’t necessarily the same thing,” Byakuran shot back softly. “I like Sho-chan. And I suspect Sho-chan must at least like me a little, to stay with me even when he doesn’t like what I do and knows I’m going to hurt him… Or that Sho-chan is a masochist, in which case you still must be enjoying  _something_ … but then that would mean that you are using me.”

“I’m not!” Shoichi protested weakly, his eyes flaring open at Byakuran. That smile suddenly appeared for a fraction of a second and in his panic Shoichi could almost see it clearly before it dissolved, replaced once more with the thoughtful blankness. His subconscious looked away from its head-bashing, looking hopefully upon the scene. “I wouldn’t try so hard if I didn’t care,” he muttered, suddenly remembering their earlier argument. “But you make it hard.” The head-bashing renewed itself with much more vigor than the previous attempt.

“I don’t think I could deal with the affection of another if they didn’t work for it,” Byakuran revealed, suddenly removing his hand.

Shoichi frowned, his eyebrow twitching. He couldn’t understand why he was suddenly getting upset, or why a dull ache had suddenly began thumping away in his skull. All he knew was that Byakuran seemed to be talking nonsense, running in circles. “But then what I said makes perfect sense!”

The lanky man tilted his head to the side curiously, adopting a bored expression. “Hm?”

“I work for you!” Shoichi repeated, growling softly.

“Oh, is that what you mean then?” For a moment, Byakuran looked taken aback, his voice turning flippant.

“I don’t care that you’re going to hurt me, I knew that just looking at you,” Shoichi snapped. “Even if you didn’t do it yourself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sho-chan. How can I hurt you if I don’t hurt you myself?”

“By being you.” Shoichi glared crossly up at the apparition before him, failing to find any reason for his anger. Byakuran was being himself, being no different. Shoichi had no reason to be angered by this, because it hadn’t angered him before. No, he was just frustrated with himself. Byakuran was being particularly blunt, while he was desperately trying to hide his own thoughts. He was the one being obstinate. Sighing, he forced himself to cool down for a moment. When it seemed to have settled down, Shoichi shook his head. “It’s just me.” Byakuran remained silent, still watching him, waiting. “You’re going to hurt me because I’m going to let you. You’re going to hurt me by being you while I’m being me. I’m going to let you because I can’t help but like you. …Is that good enough of an answer, Byakuran-san? I think I covered all the bases. …What are you doing?” Shoichi asked abruptly, his brow furrowing once he realized Byakuran was no longer paying him any mind.

“Taking off my pants. Can’t really get much done with them on,” Byakuran pointed out, smirking as he unclasped the belt and undid his pants. Shoichi’s face caught fire at this and he blinked rapidly.  _Is that all he really wanted to hear?_

Byakuran discarded the remainder of his clothes onto his chair before setting a rather pleased look at the other man. “Ah, Sho-chan, it’ll probably be easier for you if you lie back on the bed.”

“Will it?” Shoichi responded, dazed. This was all too much for him to wrap his mind around. Byakuran had just successfully weaseled Shoichi into admitting he liked him, and that he could also do as he saw fit without even pretending to be sorry for it, because Shoichi apparently expected that sort of thing to happen already.  _Crap._  He complied, shifting himself up onto the bed properly; he didn’t really have any reason to back out now.

Byakuran stepped up onto the bed with ease before lowering himself, resting on his knees for a moment. “How does Sho-chan feel now?” he asked casually, smiling.

“Exposed.”

“Hm. That you are…”

“Why are you doing this again?” Shoichi asked once more in an attempt to ignore the blush flourishing on his cheeks at the comment, finding he was sitting at the head of his bed with his back pressed firmly against the wall. The close proximity to the other man was beginning to get to him.

“For Sho-chan.”  _As expected…_  Shoichi thought to himself.  _Okay…_

“Okay… then can I ask you something?”

Byakuran smiled wide, clearly amused by the sudden interrogation. “You can try.”

“Were you actually upset when I wanted you to leave?”

Byakuran eyed him, placing his hands on either side of Shoichi and crawling forward until he was hovering over the other man’s torso. “…You didn’t want me to leave.”

“But I said it. And then you started acting funny,” Shoichi demanded curiously, unconsciously wrapping an arm across his stomach. Byakuran’s face was an inch away again. He crinkled his nose at the man and made sure he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t think Byakuran was above taking advantage of him attempting to speak yet again.

“Don’t you think it would hurt me to hear you say that?” Byakuran replied, his lilac eyes gazing dully into Shoichi’s.

“What I think, what you say, and what you do could all be entirely different things,” Shoichi admitted. “I’d  _prefer_  it if you actually meant it, but it was weird.”

Byakuran smiled wider than before, showing his teeth now. “Weird?”

The man seemed too amused by this turn in the conversation to be taking Shoichi seriously. The redhead pressed on anyway, realizing somewhere dimly in his mind that he was behaving rather oddly. But the recent events were anything but normal for him, and he supposed his brain was about to crack from the strain of it all. Or maybe that it already had, in fact. “It looked real enough, Byakuran-san, but you should keep in mind that looking hurt is a very odd look for someone like you, even if you meant it.”

“Right. So instead of looking hurt, I should have gotten… what, angry?”

Shoichi nodded firmly. “Should’ve just skipped the entire reaction. You do that, you know. Don’t see why you didn’t there…”

“I do? Can you skip reactions, Sho-chan?” Byakuran asked, tilting his head to the side and dragging his tongue down Shoichi’s jaw-line.

Heat radiated from his skin where the saliva had slicked it. Shoichi grumbled something incoherent before replying, “Of course not, Byakuran-san. I happen to be human.”

“Oh? What am I then?”

Shoichi couldn’t find anything immediately that would not have been a compliment, which was the opposite of what he was aiming for. Finally, a thought struck him.  _White._  “A disease.”

“Sho-chan is diseased,” Byakuran murmured cheerfully, burying his nose in the man’s neck. “And the only one who knows is his disease.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Shoichi muttered. The Bianco disease—it felt like he was the only one who knew what it was, even if he didn’t really grasp the full extent of its power.

One of Byakuran’s hands placed itself against Shoichi’s chest for a moment before sliding downward towards his abdomen, its fingers lightly tapping out some sort of pattern. “It’s funny that we say ‘his disease’, like the person owns it. It’s obvious that the disease owns the person, yes?” Shoichi didn’t like the glint in Byakuran’s eyes. He said so, earning a small chuckle from the other man. “Ah, but Sho-chan, you gave yourself to me just now. So whose fault is it really?”

Shoichi didn’t respond. His mind had become suddenly distracted as Byakuran’s wandering hand began tracing intricate little squiggles on the inside of his hip. Glancing down at this, he watched as Byakuran carefully readjusted himself so that his legs were straddling Shoichi. Then he raised his other arm, clamping his hand on Shoichi’s shoulder, and shoved the man down. Shoichi’s body slid awkwardly beneath Byakuran and away from the wall so that he was now lying down. Then another shifting and Byakuran crawled back once again, leaving himself around Shoichi’s knees.

“If you must know anything, Sho-chan, then know that I mean it when I say I like you,” the man stated quietly. In the dark of the room with Shoichi lying flat it was hard to see Byakuran’s face, but he supposed that he’d be frowning with his nose crinkled, almost distastefully. Byakuran was shifting yet again, this time bringing his legs back between Shoichi’s, so the redhead shifted with him.

The now completely-disheveled white hair loomed up into Shoichi’s vision momentarily as Byakuran leaned over him, placing his hands on either side of his subordinate. “But nothing else, right?” Shoichi whispered almost inaudibly. Byakuran’s lips twitched at this, as though fighting off a smirk. He was done talking.

Shoichi removed his arm from his stomach, tossing it to his side. He was at a total loss now. He had quite liberally exposed a good portion of himself to Byakuran today; it felt like the only thing he had left that was his own bit of sacred knowledge was the betrayal. And even then, he could never be sure if Byakuran had figured even that out yet—the only way to know would be to ask, which would be foolish, and it was unlikely he’d be able to decipher the man’s reactions and words to find out whether or not he did.

He could feel the other man shift again and was aware that this was more or less a warning sign. No preparation. The redhead focused resolutely on his breathing, on wondering how he was going to be able to continue working for this man under these circumstances. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from groaning at the sudden forceful insertion, his chest suddenly heaving. His hands clenched reflexively in the sheets, twisting the cloth around tightly as he gritted his teeth. The initial stab of pain subsided, slowly, like when your hand goes numb from being under too-hot water for a period of time. The pain was still there, but his body was attempting to mask it.

The pace was slow, almost maddeningly slow, but the reoccurring pain with each thrust was the only real indication of this. It had time to flare up to a startling intensity before quelling itself, almost dissipating entirely before it returned in full force. Shoichi found his breathing had grown shallow, slowing down to mimic this. Air slipped inside his lungs through his mouth as it hung open slightly; the sound of his ragged breaths mingled with the rest of the white noise that was making a comeback now. Blood rushed around in his ears like a torrent of water while his heart thudding heavily. Byakuran’s reedy breathing bled into the chaos, reminding Shoichi that Byakuran was at least human enough to need oxygen, or possibly enough of a demon that he mimicked the action.

Shoichi’s world became a slick blur within minutes. The room had turned sickly warm, the sort of intense heat that settles down on your skin and permeates your body, weighing you down. His skin had begun to prickle with sweat, his lungs felt like they were filled with steam. He had been overheated before, but this was different. His back was pressed firmly into the bedding, while Byakuran hovered over him, his own body radiating soft waves of heat. He could see Byakuran’s bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, hanging limply in his eyes.

Without realizing what he was doing, Shoichi reached out with a hand and moved Byakuran’s bangs off to the side, away from the man’s eyes; he received a mute chuckle before the man leaned down and kissed him roughly. Shoichi took his hands into Byakuran’s hair, running his fingers through it before allowing his hands to travel down to his neck. The pace had begun to change, and the pain had suddenly increased to compensate. He found one of his hands had clamped tightly across the back of Byakuran’s neck; the other man curled his lip but made no other motion to complain. He buried his face into Shoichi’s neck and chose instead to bite him.

The redhead hissed between gritted teeth. Byakuran hadn’t simply aimed for a nip; he went after one particular curve in the muscle there and sank his teeth in forcefully—if Shoichi needed any evidence of how hard, there was definitely blood seeping onto his skin, mingling with the sweat. The sweet odor of sweat had almost instantly been joined with the hard smell of iron. He ignored the teeth as best he could, taking one of his hands and cradling the back of Byakuran’s skull with his palm, digging his fingers into the damp ivory locks.

It felt like eternity had suddenly snuck up on them. Shoichi wasn’t sure if that was how it was supposed to be, it certainly hadn’t occurred to him before. He wondered aimlessly if Byakuran’s head would be stuck at an awkward angle the next time he saw him. The man had stopped digging in with his teeth, choosing instead to suck at the sore muscle since Shoichi had yet to let go of his neck, pinning his head down. His other hand had slid down to grip indolently at Byakuran’s hip. There wouldn’t be much more to this. Shoichi found himself wondering as the haze began to creep up on him. What was going to happen afterwards? He had suggested Byakuran leave, and the man had agreed to comply… but then, they had dispelled that, hadn’t they?

Would he want to be alone? Would he even be able to look at the other man? There was no easy way to predict how Byakuran would act under the circumstances. He found himself clutching at the other man harder unconsciously, and wondered what that meant. He couldn’t honestly stay with Byakuran—his intention was to betray him and that always put a damper on things, didn’t it? And he didn’t even want to wonder what Byakuran’s intentions could be. He typically went through his days hoping the man didn’t think about him, because it always ended with him being called up on the monitor, and almost always had Byakuran viciously eating marshmallows at him. There was a little thing called guilt, and Shoichi figured it was one of those typical human functions Byakuran was born missing, but  _he_  sure as hell had it and it nagged at him like none other during those long uneventful monitor sessions.

Oftentimes he wondered if that was the entire reason Byakuran did them.

He tried to dispel the thought as paranoia—another problem Shoichi had. He wouldn’t put it past Byakuran to do such things, the man was a walking mindfuck, but he had to convince himself that he was still…  _minutely…_  safe…

Then there was this entire business with getting into his pants. That could be looked at in so many horrific ways that Shoichi’s head began to pound. Ownership, companionship, guilt, pride, too many little things could be the blame. Shoichi didn’t even want to consider Byakuran’s words. The man had said he liked him. This man could “like” him for any number of reasons; he’d be able to say the words and not miss a beat, not be lying. Byakuran never said anything simply. There was a catch somewhere, and Shoichi wasn’t seeing it. And yet the man had toyed with him enough to get Shoichi to admit to the same thing himself. …But there was a catch in his too, wasn’t there?

In this, they were no different, and neither of them carried the blame. It was shared. It should have made Shoichi feel better; it only made him feel dirty. He wondered how Byakuran had learned to deal with the stains, only to realize that he had learned just as quickly. He’d been stained once through the Bianco disease, only to stain himself further with his betrayal. And he had been able to handle it easily. He wondered if this was because of his own character or from working with Byakuran for so long now.

When and if the two of them would finally be able to confront each other with this, would Shoichi be able to stand before Byakuran and cope with the entire mess of emotions that would surely accost him? What would Byakuran have to even say about such a thing? It made his chest sting just trying to imagine it. He didn’t want to imagine it.

Instead he focused on the man before him, who throughout the day had constantly pulled Shoichi out of his thoughts, because in fact Shoichi needed it. He wasn’t sure why Byakuran thought he needed it, but he certainly did. Stress relief. Shoichi had never heard of sleeping with your boss being used as stress relief, but he supposed it was the wrong way to look at things. His superior, his boss, was a disease, but he was also a man. A man who at least  _said_  he was trying to help, and for all intents and purposes, he apparently had done so.

Shoichi was trying to help too. You could look at betrayal in any number of ways, but that was the most basic form it had taken in Shoichi’s mind. He didn’t like what Byakuran was planning to do. He had to help stop the man. It was for everyone’s sake, including Byakuran himself.

Byakuran needed saving.

In some twisted reality, maybe Byakuran was pushing Shoichi’s buttons so that he would betray him. Stop him. But that required Byakuran to feel guilt, feel regret, and Shoichi wasn’t sure the man was capable. He always said he trusted Shoichi the most; what did he trust him with, exactly? Byakuran would just smile. If he trusted Shoichi to be Shoichi, then the redhead was in trouble, because it meant Byakuran clearly knew what was happening in his mind and was pleasantly waiting for it.

Shoichi was in trouble anyway. He was sleeping with the man he cared about, the man he intended to betray, the man who had stained him, the man who was not quite a man but an enigma. How does one come to care for an enigma, when there is nothing there to care for?

His ear suddenly grew hot as Byakuran breathed quietly into it. He was panting gently, almost as though he couldn’t manage much else. “Ne, Sho-chan?” he whispered; it sounded like he was answering a question. His voice was still the light playfulness he loved to use to get under Shoichi’s patience, but it shook slightly.

Shoichi had tried to twist his neck to look at the other man’s face, but his body was no longer responding to him. His hand suddenly scrabbled wildly at Byakuran’s hip as his body panicked. It jolted one final time, a cry breaking from Shoichi’s spent lungs as Byakuran came. Shoichi was mildly aware that he had as well, but he was so damn numb and on fire that he could hardly feel anything by this point.

Byakuran slid from Shoichi’s grasp now that it had slackened, depositing himself beside the panting redhead in a tired heap on his stomach. He brought his hands to his unkempt hair and quite slowly began picking at strands. Shoichi watched as his back rose and fell quietly, unassumingly. Sweat glistened across his skin, but for the most part he seemed composed. Hell, Shoichi was doing better than he thought he would. Still, they were hot and sodden and shaking, their energy equally spent.

“Mm. This is undignified,” Byakuran murmured, chuckling into the pillow.

“Is it?” Shoichi asked, attempting to reach his glasses. His fingers scraped blindly at the nightstand beside him, searching out the likely cold frames that had been discarded there ages earlier. Once he snagged them he carefully put them on, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“I hadn’t thought it’d take that much energy.”

“Is it not supposed to?” Shoichi murmured, unsure himself.

“Hm. Maybe.” They lay there in silence for a few minutes, their breathing the only real sound permeating the room. Byakuran twisted his head for a moment to stare at Shoichi. The expression was muddled, even with Shoichi’s glasses.

Shoichi stared back for a moment before a frown settled onto his face. “Ano, Byakuran-san.”

Hm?”

Shoichi raised a hand to his lips, tapping them for a second before the hand. “You’ve got… hn…” He reached out and tapped his fingers lightly on Byakuran’s lips before dropping his hand entirely. “You’ve got my blood on your lips, Byakuran-san.”

Byakuran raised an eyebrow slightly before licking his lips clean. Shoichi’s eyes watched the tongue dart back into the man’s mouth and the small smile that appeared afterwards. “Sho-chan is sweet.”

“…” Shoichi opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find any sort of statement that wouldn’t just make him embarrassed. Squirming slightly, Byakuran stretched over and kissed Shoichi, his tongue entwining with Shoichi’s for a moment before extricating itself just as quickly once Shoichi actually returned the gesture.

“Yep. Sweet,” Byakuran chimed, licking his lips once more. Shoichi blinked at him owlishly. A short-lived smile flitted across the man’s face. Then he blinked, huffing slightly, and another unusual expression surfaced suddenly before he growled softly and buried his face back into the pillow.

Shoichi had watched the development with mild astonishment that the man was suddenly showing more variation in his responses, but they obviously weren’t good ones. “Byakuran-san? What are you thinking?”  _Three strikes you’re out, third time’s a charm…_

“I’m sad,” the ivory-haired man admitted, waving a hand in the air above his head for a moment. The admission was said lightly but bluntly, dismissing itself. As if it was just a phase the man would quickly ignore; Shoichi had a feeling that if he didn’t say something that was exactly what would happen.

The bespectacled male sat up despite the amount of screaming pain this caused and looked at Byakuran curiously. “Why?”

“Because Sho-chan is leaving.” Shoichi’s heart stopped for a moment. It didn’t recover until the head turned back and those lilac eyes shifted to gaze up at him, a strange smile on the man’s lips. “Sho-chan’s going home.”

“Home? Japan?” he asked, his voice suddenly sinking.

Nodding vaguely, Byakuran shrugged his shoulders before rolling over and throwing an arm over Shoichi’s waist and burying his face into the man’s side. “I need you there. I had wanted to tell you earlier, but you left.”

“I… I see…” Shoichi murmured, resting his head against the cold wall. It was already happening. This was quite probably the end. They couldn’t still play this strange game once Shoichi’s treachery came to light, could they? …But Byakuran made a living out of playing games. Silently he wondered if Byakuran would at least continue the farce with him, and if that was what he actually wanted.

“You’ll tell me when you get in, won’t you?”

Sighing, Shoichi gave in to his urge and rested his hand on Byakuran’s skull, lightly threading his fingers through his white hair. “Would you want that?”

“It would help me sleep better.” The man honestly looked like he intended to sleep then and there; it was hard to believe he’d let a little thing like Shoichi’s absence worry him.

Shoichi tilted his head downward to eye the man. “…Such an odd thing to say, Byakuran-san. You sleep?”

“Even diseases need energy, Sho-chan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Updating relevant information and tags (I'm still new to this whole business), preparing to become super active here as per my foo's demands!
> 
> Interested in checking out my original writing? You can find it [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


End file.
